


Let Me Under Your Skin

by sneksonaplane



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Kidnapping, Murder, Peter being his murderous self
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-16
Updated: 2015-09-21
Packaged: 2018-04-15 00:16:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4585668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sneksonaplane/pseuds/sneksonaplane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter had found most of the bad people who’d taken his family now. He told Stiles there was only one person left, a really bad person who had been in charge of taking his family from him. Over the past few weeks his curiosity had been piqued by Peter’s work, how he hunted down the bad people who hurt him and came home covered in their blood, but now he was also worried. If this last person was so bad, she might hurt Peter. Especially since she took Peter’s first family from him- what if now she took Stiles’ family from him? <i>What if she took Peter?</i> </p><p>OR</p><p>Peter kidnaps Stiles after the fire and Stiles becomes his little murder baby</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Stiles was at the park by himself again. He knew he wasn’t supposed to be there alone, his teacher at school lectured the class on stranger danger and told them to use the buddy system all the time, and his parents had always said the same thing. Thinking of his mom and dad made his stomach ache, his eyes getting all hot and wet like he was about to cry. He rubbed hard at his eyes, determined not to start crying like a baby. 

Anyways, all he’d been thinking about was how the elderly couple he lived with, who called themselves his foster parents but who he just called Mr. and Mrs. Lewiston, didn’t notice or care when he went places by himself. He could spend as much time at the park as he wanted and no one would find him. 

_No one would find him because he lived with strangers who didn’t pay any attention to him, and he had to live with them because his mom and dad were dead, they’d been gone for two months and Stiles missed them so much._ Now he was crying for real. He sat down in the grass, his breath catching on a sob while he frantically tried to wipe up the tears on his face using his shirt, but it didn’t work because he just kept crying and he couldn’t wipe all of the tears away when he kept making more. He was all messy now too, the dirt that had been on his hands and shirt had spread to his teary face and he felt so gross but couldn’t do anything about it, could only cry like he was two instead of seven. 

“Are you alright, sweetheart? Are you hurt?”

He looked up at the sound of the man’s voice but didn’t respond right away. Stiles hadn’t even heard him approach, but now this man was crouching down so he was at eye level with Stiles, looking at him with so much concern that Stiles could only cry harder. His dad used to look at him the same way this man was now. 

“My name is Peter. What’s your name?”

“Sti-” He was interrupted by a hiccuping sob, and Peter only looked more worried, reaching out and resting one hand on Stiles’ shoulder like he was trying to comfort him. It worked, at least, helped him slow his breathing and cry a little more quietly. “Stiles. My name’s Stiles Stilinski.” 

“Could you tell me what’s wrong, Stiles? Maybe I can help.” Peter offered, and his smile was so nice, Stiles nodded and inched a little closer to him. 

“You prolly can’t help though. I just got sad because I miss my parents. They’re dead.” He explained, the words causing a fresh bout of tears to flow from his eyes when he said them. 

Peter’s hand was on the back of his neck now, the weight and warmth of it soothing, especially when he brushed his fingers through the back of Stiles’ hair. Stiles leaned into the touch while Peter spoke.

“I’m sorry about your parents, Stiles. I’ve lost people I loved very recently too. But don’t you think our loved ones would want us to be happy and even find new people we can love, new families?”

Stiles frowned, confused by what Peter was saying. “I’m supposed to find new parents to love? But I got foster parents already and they’re not like real parents at all and I don’t love them. And they don’t love me.” He sniffled.

Peter made a thoughtful noise, and Stiles watched his face as he seemed to consider something for a minute before he said, “Maybe your new family just isn’t the right one for you.”

“Then how do I find the right one?” Stiles asked, a little worried he’d never find the right family. He’d been in three different foster homes in the past two months and none of them had been right, apparently. “How did you find your new family?”

Peter smiled at him, and Stiles smiled back, realizing he’d stopped crying at some point. “I don’t have a new family yet. Stiles, may I ask you a question?”

Stiles nodded, squirming and nuzzling back against Peter’s hand on his neck, trying to encourage the man to keep stroking his hair since he’d stopped. 

“Would you like to be my family? I could be yours too.”

Eyes wide, Stiles stared at Peter in silence for a moment, trying to figure out if he was joking or trying to trick Stiles. He looked really serious, though. 

“Yeah! We can try, I mean. Does that mean I gotta move to a new house again?” He frowned, remembering having to pack up all his things and move them from one foster house to another. That hadn’t been fun. He’d do it if it meant moving in with Peter, though.

“I was thinking I could take you to our home right now and we’ll work on getting you clothes and everything else you need later. Is that okay?” Peter smiled again, and Stiles nodded eagerly. When Peter stood up and offered his hand to Stiles, he took it, letting the man lead him to where his car was parked.

“Woah. Your car is really shiny.” He blurted out as Peter opened the door to the back of the car, helping Stiles inside. Peter chuckled, buckling Stiles’ seatbelt for him. “Thank you, Stiles.”

 

Stiles loved living with Peter. They’d been able to skip the boring part of moving where Stiles had to pack up all his things, take them somewhere else, and unpack them, because Peter already had a lot of clothes that fit Stiles at his house. The house was also filled with books, cool toys and games for Stiles to play with. He didn’t have to go to school anymore, because Peter said he was smart enough to learn just from reading books and using the internet. Stiles would have expected to be bored without school or to at least miss his friends, but he always had something fun to do at Peter’s house. He could watch tv and use the computer whenever he wanted, Peter had lots of books for him to read, and he was rarely alone. Most of the time Peter was right there, watching tv with him or helping him read or playing games with him. Sometimes he was busy with his own computer, but Stiles didn’t bother him then because he’d already explained to Stiles that he was doing very important work. He was looking for the people who took his first family from him, because they were bad and he needed to stop them. A few times he even left Stiles alone in their house, and that was always when he had extra super very important work to do. 

The first time that happened, Peter left late at night and Stiles had been woken by him returning. He’d jumped out of bed and run downstairs, eager to greet Peter, only to find him standing in the kitchen with blood all over him. That had scared him a lot until Peter calmed him down and told him it wasn’t his blood. “Is it blood from one of the bad people?” He’d asked, hugging Peter’s leg and staring up at him in awe when he nodded and said, “Yes, it is.”

 

Peter had found most of the bad people who’d taken his family now. He told Stiles there was only one person left, a really bad person who had been in charge of taking his family from him. Over the past few weeks his curiosity had been piqued by Peter’s work, how he hunted down the bad people who hurt him and came home covered in their blood, but now he was also worried. If this last person was so bad, she might hurt Peter. Especially since she took Peter’s first family from him- what if now she took Stiles’ family from him? _What if she took Peter?_

He didn’t say anything about being worried, but Stiles spent the next few weeks watching Peter extra closely, and he asked him lots of questions about the woman he was looking for. Her name was Kate Argent and Peter said she might be harder to get rid of than the others had been. Stiles silently decided he would have to be there to help Peter get rid of her, then. 

 

Peter tucked Stiles in like always the night he went to get Kate Argent, kissing him goodnight and promising to be back soon. As soon as Stiles heard him leave the house, he got out of bed and hurried downstairs, where he put on his sneakers, picked up his baseball bat, and went outside to get his bike. He knew where Peter was going to see Kate- it was an abandoned house in the forest, not too far from the house he and Peter lived in. If he rode his bike fast enough he’d be there in no time. 

His plan to help Peter was going well until he actually reached the abandoned house. The second he got there Peter was running outside and grabbing him by the shoulders. “Stiles. What are you doing here, sweetheart?”

“I came to help you!” He held up his bat as proof. “You weren’t supposed to know, though. I was just gonna help if the Kate lady tried to hurt you and you couldn’t stop her by yourself…” 

Peter was smiling a little, but he looked upset when he said, “Thank you for wanting to help me, but I won’t be needing any help tonight. Maybe next time we can work together from the beginning to find a bad guy and you can help me get rid of them.”

Stiles frowned. “But-” He started to protest when Peter looked away, seeming to tense as he looked into the distance at something Stiles couldn’t see. Then he was ushering Stiles into the abandoned house, which looked all black and burnt up close and smelled like smoke. 

“Kate is almost here, Stiles. I need you to hide upstairs and don’t make a sound or come down until I tell you it’s safe, okay?” Peter sounded so worried that he couldn’t bring himself to argue, just scurried up the stairs and ducked into one of the empty rooms up there. A few minutes later he heard an engine, the sound of a car approaching, and then footsteps as someone else walked into the house. He heard voices, an unfamiliar woman he figured was Kate followed by Peter’s voice, but he couldn’t hear what they were saying. Then the fighting started. 

The sound of a gunshot and an ensuing scuffle drew Stiles forward, unable to stay hidden when he couldn’t see anything, had no idea what was going on or if Peter was okay. He crouched down by the banister, peering downstairs to where Peter and Kate were fighting. It looked like Peter was winning even though he had a bullet wound on his shoulder, but then Kate pulled out a blade and sunk it into Peter’s stomach. Watching Peter double over and stumble back from Kate, Stiles didn’t really think before he yelled out, “Daddy!” He’d never called Peter that before, but it was the first thing that came to mind when he saw Kate stab him- his daddy was hurt. 

His panicked cry drew Kate’s attention, and in the brief second she spent turning to look up at Stiles, Peter yanked the knife out of his stomach, lunged forwards and grabbed Kate. Stiles couldn’t see very well from where he was, but something happened to Peter’s hands then, like he had claws, and they were digging into Kate’s neck now. “Apologize for killing my family.” Peter ordered, and Kate apologized with a shaky, scared voice right before her throat got torn open. She fell to the ground, blood pouring out all over her from the wounds in her throat. Stiles was frozen, watching the scene with wide eyes, until Peter looked up at him and smiled. 

“You can come down now, Stiles.” His voice had been cold, hard when he talked to Kate, but now it sounded the way it always did when he talked to Stiles, the gentle tone calming him down right away. Stiles jumped to his feet and ran down the stairs, going to hug Peter before he remembered the wound on his stomach. 

“You’re hurt.” He pointed out, his hand hovering over the bloody wound he could see through the torn part of Peter’s shirt where the knife had sliced it open. There was some kind of yellow liquid all around the wound too, and when Stiles looked at the knife on the floor he saw it had the yellow stuff on it too. 

“I’ll be fine.” Peter reassured, kneeling down in front of Stiles and cupping the boy’s face in his hands, forcing Stiles to meet his gaze instead of staring at his wound. Stiles seemed to relax somewhat, but his gaze still flickered to Peter’s shoulder where he’d been shot. “Once we get home I can take out the bullet and fix up this little scratch on my stomach. I’ll be fine, Stiles.” He repeated, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to Stiles’ nose. It made him giggle, and he quickly mimicked the action, clumsily kissing Peter’s nose before gesturing to Kate’s body. 

“What are you gonna do with her?”

“Well, I could burn this house with her inside it. I could also cut her up and move the pieces to a lot of different places. There are lots of things I could do.” Peter grinned at him. “Maybe you could help me decide how to get rid of her.” He suggested, earning him a delighted cheer from Stiles.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Malia joins the little Hale family. This was supposed to have Peter/Stiles/Malia but it got out of control and became too long so that will probably be introduced in the next chapter.

**Peter's POV**  
Peter had first noticed Stiles a week before he’d actually met the boy. He’d been at Beacon Hills Elementary school after hours, having finally found the person responsible for educating Kate Argent on the art of arson. Adrian Harris was a second grade teacher who also tutored high school chemistry students, and while he wasn’t exactly responsible for killing most of the Hale family, he’d certainly been an unknowing accomplice and might even know who else had been involved in the murders. Peter had planned on showing up at the school when he knew Harris would be there alone, threatening information out of him, and then killing him just for the hell of it, just because everyone who had anything to do with the fire had become a target of his rage. 

But Harris hadn’t been alone that day. Peter had still been down the hall from his classroom when he’d heard two distinct voices, Harris and a young boy. The boy was insisting that he be sent home, already, no one was going to show up to get him, and Harris coolly replied that Stiles had been given detention and his guardians contacted, now they needed to come talk to the teacher about it before Stiles could leave. Who even gave a second grader detention? Adrian Harris did, apparently. Peter had moved quietly towards the classroom, planning to lurk nearby until the boy left and then deal with Harris as planned, but all rational thought left his mind at the sight of Stiles pacing impatiently around the front of the room.

_Joshua. Josh is alive._

That had been Peter’s thinking for a moment before he regained his sanity. The boy didn’t even look that much like his dead son, they had the same dark hair buzzed short and something about the way this unfamiliar boy moved reminded Peter of _his_ boy, of Josh, but that was where the resemblance ended. It didn’t stop Peter from feeling drawn to Stiles. He’d listened to the child’s conversation with Harris, watched as an elderly man, who he quickly discovered to be Stiles’ foster father, arrived. The man talked with Harris about a fight Stiles had been in, something about weeks of unfinished homework too, before guardian and child left together and Mr. Harris was finally alone. Peter had confronted and questioned him as planned, but he’d been too distracted to kill the man. Too caught up in thoughts of the little boy he’d seen. Stiles. Strange and irrational as it was, Peter knew he had to have him, especially if he’d lost his family too as the presence of a foster parent indicated. They would be a perfect match. 

 

Peter recalled with fondness the day he first saw Stiles. He was even more fond of the memory of their first real meeting, how Stiles had seemed so immediately trusting and drawn to Peter that day in the park. The boy had been so touch-starved, so needy, that Peter had just wanted to pull him into a hug right away, shield him from the world and never let him go, but he’d known he had to be careful until Stiles fully trusted him. It wouldn’t do to scare him away. And his caution had been worth it. Stiles was his now, called him ‘Daddy’ more often than ‘Peter’ ever since the incident with Kate and eagerly tagged along when Peter went out to kill someone, usually a hunter or a supernatural creature that he felt posed a threat to himself and his boy. Stiles knew about the supernatural now, knew all about what Peter was and seemed to find it exciting that his daddy was a werewolf. He’d reacted with equal excitement to killing, hadn’t even been squeamish when he’d seen his first dead body- Kate Argent- but had instead enthusiastically gone about trying to dismember the body and then pleaded with Peter to burn all the pieces of the corpse. Peter had indulged him, and it had been adorable the way Stiles watched Kate burn, eyes wide with joy while he bounced on the balls of his feet. 

 

Things changed shortly after Stiles’ ninth birthday. That was when Peter heard about the car accident that supposedly killed three people, a mother and her two daughters. One of them was really Peter’s daughter, Malia, who he’d known about for almost as long as he’d had Stiles. He’d kept tabs on her, even kept tabs on the Desert Wolf the best he could, because Malia was his child, her birth mother was dangerous, and he felt compelled to look out for her. He’d never wanted to raise her, though, not when he already had a family- Stiles- and so did Malia, her adoptive parents loving her just as they would if she was their biological child. But then there was the car accident, and Peter knew. The Desert Wolf had to be behind it, and he needed to protect Malia from her.

Peter visited the scene of the so-called accident two days after it happened, when he could survey things without anyone noticing or interrupting him. He’d read in the news that Malia’s body wasn’t found, and he didn’t know if that meant her birth mother took her or if she escaped the car and ran off, probably too frightened to stick around with her dead mom and sister in a mangled car until help came. He just knew it meant she wasn’t dead. She couldn’t be, he’d smell it if she had died there by the car or on the nearby roadside. Instead he smelled her terror, pain and guilt, and the scent lead him away from the crashed car and into the forest. He followed Malia’s scent all the way to a cave a few miles away, where it looked and smelled like she’s made herself a den, and that was when he realized she’d likely been living in her coyote form, probably without even knowing how to shift back if she wanted to. He left the den undisturbed, already planning how he’d get Malia to shift and come home with him and Stiles. He couldn’t leave his own daughter to fend for herself in the wilderness, after all. 

 

 **Stiles' POV**  
Stiles found out about the coyote girl pretty fast. He was reading a Harry Potter book on the couch, his Daddy sitting right beside him on his computer. Every once in awhile, Stiles’ attention would wander from his book to the stuff Peter was looking at, and an article headline about a car crash caught his attention eventually. He scooted a little closer to Peter, receiving a better view of the laptop screen and one of his Daddy’s arms wrapping around him for his efforts. He skimmed through the article that had drawn his attention, pausing at the mention of a Tate family being involved in the accident. 

“Daddy?” Stiles laid his head on Peter’s chest and peered up at him.

“Stiles?” Peter mimicked Stiles’ searching, inquisitive tone, making Stiles giggle before he insisted, “I have a question! Isn’t Tate the last name of the girl who’s kinda your daughter?”

Nodding, Peter hummed thoughtfully, planning out what he could say to Stiles and then explaining gently, “Her name is Malia. Her and her family were in a car accident recently where her mother and sister died, but Malia survived. Remember how I told you Malia is a werecoyote, almost like me but not quite?” He waited for Stiles’ nod then continued. “It looks like the car accident, which likely wasn’t even an accident but was caused by her birth mother, scared Malia into shifting into her coyote form and running away. She’s living out in the forest now.”

It was a lot of information for a nine year old to take in. But Stiles’ brain worked fast, his mind always racing and flitting from one idea to the next at impressive speeds. They only sat there in silence for about a minute, Peter nuzzling the top of the boy’s head, his neck, wherever he could reach to scent him while he waited for Stiles to respond. 

“Malia’s only family were her mom and her sister and her real mom who’s bad, right?”

“Yes, they were.” Peter confirmed, a fond smile forming on his face. He thought he knew where this was going, what Stiles was about to say next.

“We gotta take her home with us and let her be in our family, then! She can’t live in the woods with no family.” Stiles sounded horrified at the concept. He’d learned a lot about how important family was since losing his parents and moving in with Peter. Without his Daddy he’d be all alone and sad and he’d have no one to cut his sandwiches into butterfly shapes, no one to give him bubble baths, no one to teach him the best ways to hurt or kill a person...they couldn’t let someone else in Peter’s family be alone like that. 

Peter lifted Stiles into his lap and kissed his forehead before enveloping him in a hug. “You’re right. I think that’s a perfect idea, Stiles.”

 

Stiles and Peter went out searching for Malia a week later. As they walked through the woods to the coyote’s den, Stiles made sure to keep extra quiet, not wanting to distract his daddy- he learned a long time ago that supernatural creatures were especially strong and dangerous, and Daddy got overprotective of him when they were around something like another werewolf, always staying tense and on high alert “just in case.” Right then he seemed to be seeking out Malia’s scent, or maybe he was just listening closely for any sign that she was in her cave as they approached it. Either way, he put a hand out in front of Stiles right when they got within view of the cave entrance, stopping him in his tracks. 

They’d already discussed the plan, so all it took was a look from Peter and Stiles was nodding, staying right where he was while the werewolf made his way into the cave a few yards ahead. It was silent for awhile, and Stiles admired how stealthy his daddy was, not even crunching leaves or breaking twigs under his feet while he walked- he was like a spy. Yeah, a super secret assassin spy (Stiles learned the word ‘assassin’ from a movie a few months ago. It was his new favorite word.) But if Peter was a spy, what did that make Stiles? Maybe they were both spies, like partners or a student/teacher pair or both. They should probably have code names for each other, he thought, Daddy could be Alpha or Black Wolf maybe and Stiles could be-

He was interrupted from his thoughts by the faint sound of growling. He could tell which sounds were coming from Malia and which from Peter, because Peter had an extra loud, deep alpha growl that made Stiles feel all shivery when he heard it, not because he was afraid but more like his body was reacting on instinct to such a menacing sound and he got overwhelmed with awe for his Daddy, he couldn’t help it. The growling and snarling was followed by some panicked yipping noises, and then he couldn’t hear anything but he figured Peter was just talking to Malia now, telling her about their plan. How she could be with family now, she didn’t need to be alone anymore and Peter would even help her find the Desert Wolf if she wanted revenge for the murder of her old family. He was also probably flashing his alpha eyes, something Stiles knew would make the coyote submit without being able to help herself. He just hoped they’d come out soon because Stiles didn’t really have a part in their plan to bring Malia home, he’d just come along to watch. 

They did emerge from the cave soon. Peter was carrying Malia, who looked to be about the same size as Stiles and had long, tangled blond hair and lots of dirt all over her. She was wrapped up in Peter’s jacket, and Stiles saw her bare her teeth, squirm in an effort to be let down from his daddy’s arms, apparently wanting to walk by herself. Peter just flashed his alpha eyes at her and she went still. When they reached the spot where Stiles was standing, Peter introduced him to Malia. 

"Stiles, this is Malia. Malia, this is Stiles, the boy I was telling you about." 

There was silence then as Stiles waved at the girl and she just stared at him. Eventually Malia spoke, looking at Peter warily when she said, "You told me he was your kid. He doesn't smell like a wolf." 

Stiles felt all warm and happy inside when he heard that Peter had called him his son. He felt even happier when his daddy smiled and said, "Stiles is my son, he's just a human instead of a wolf, kind of like how you're my daughter but you're a coyote instead of a wolf like me." 

 

Stiles wasn't so sure he liked Malia. She mostly communicated through angry snarls and growls for the first week in their house, which his daddy could interpret perfectly but Stiles couldn't understand at all. She paced restlessly throughout the whole house most of the time, never wanted to play with Stiles, and she'd bitten him once while trying to steal his poptart at breakfast. At least she'd gotten in trouble for it, but still. It had hurt. 

But worst of all, Stiles was scared that Malia was stealing his daddy from him. Daddy had been spending most of his time looking out for the little werecoyote, helping her take baths and taking her for runs through the woods and using wolf language to talk to her, sending soft rumbling growls her way, scenting her all the time, flashing his alpha eyes at her. Stiles had thought he was good at understanding Daddy's special wolf language, since he used it around Stiles a lot, but his interactions with Malia were on a whole new level. It left Stiles feeling lost and left out. 

And it's not like Peter was ignoring him, he still found time to read books and cuddle and play with Stiles, but he was used to having his daddy's undivided attention and now Malia got more attention than him. What if it was because Malia was Peter's real daughter? What if now that he had a kid who was really his, he didn't want Stiles anymore? Eventually he would get sick of even having his old, fake son around and he would send Stiles away. The thought scared him, made him feel sad and lost and he knew it would only be worse once Daddy actually got rid of him.

Stiles was really good at hiding his emotions, though, Daddy always said so. He'd tricked a few hunters who wanted to hurt Daddy once, all by acting like he was all harmless and scared and needed their help. They'd had no idea how excited, how gleeful he really felt as he thought of how Daddy would be killing the hunter's friends outside right then, and after he'd come inside, he would kill most of the hunters, but leave one for Stiles to play with. The memory of that night made Stiles feel even sadder, even though Daddy had been so proud of Stiles' acting skills and the way he killed the last hunter all by himself. It just made him think about what a better killer Malia must be, since she was a coyote. Why would Daddy keep Stiles around and stick to human victims when he had Malia, and the two of them were strong enough together that they could kill all kinds of supernatural creatures? He had to remind himself that at least he could hide his emotions, Daddy didn't need to see him being all pouty. He might be scared and sad and lonely, but as long as he could hide that, he'd be okay somehow. 

 

Stiles stopped being able to hide his emotions at bedtime on Friday night. It had been exactly one week since Malia moved in (and stole his daddy, some angry part of Stiles reminded him) and he had already gotten in bed. Daddy had looked at him funny when Stiles had insisted on bathing himself that night, but he just didn't want to sit through a rushed bath while Malia sat there impatiently waiting for _her_ bath. Her bath that always lasted longer than Stiles', her bath where Daddy would coo and make silly noises at her, where she'd have fun splashing around and Daddy wouldn't even get mad when she got water all over the bathroom. He didn't want to have to think about that. So he'd taken his own bath, and now he was in bed just waiting for Malia to stop making so much noise in the bathroom so he could fall asleep. 

It took awhile, but she eventually quieted down and Stiles heard Daddy's footsteps in the hall as he carried Malia to her bedroom. He heard their conversation once they were in Malia's room, too, and couldn't help listening in. He was a spy, after all. 

"Lemme sleep in your bed." That was Malia, using human words for once but sounding whiny. 

"Princess, I'd like you to at least try to sleep in your own bed. Stiles is right next door, I'll be right down the hall, we're all safe."

Daddy's voice was so gentle and nice and all of a sudden Stiles missed him, missed hearing that voice directed at him. His eyes got all hot and wet with tears but he stayed quiet while he cried. 

"But-" Malia had started to protest, probably insist on sleeping in Daddy's bed, when Daddy interrupted her. 

"Just try to sleep here tonight. If you can't fall asleep or you wake up and you need me, you can come to my room. All I want you to do is try for me, okay?" 

Stiles heard the quickly but reluctantly grumbled "Okay," from Malia, heard them exchange "goodnights" and "I love you's" and he knew kisses were too quiet to hear but he just knew that brief, faint sound had been Daddy giving Malia a kiss before he left her room. That was when Stiles broke down, his silent tears becoming louder sobs and sniffles and even a few wails of distress that he tried to smother in his pillow. It was just too much, there was this new girl who didn't like Stiles but she was Peter's real kid and Peter loved her, probably more than he loved Stiles and what was he going to do when he was sent away by his daddy? Where would he even go? Nowhere in the world would have people who would love him like Daddy did, who he could love as much as he loved Daddy. He was gonna be alone, and- 

"Stiles, sweetheart, what's wrong?" Daddy's voice, sounding all concerned, broke him out of his thoughts. 

It didn't stop his crying though, so he just continued with that, wailing extra loud at the way Daddy looked so caring and worried for Stiles. He didn't want his daddy to stop caring about him like that. 

Daddy sat down on the edge of Stiles' bed and picked the small boy up easily, placing Stiles on his lap where he could be thoroughly scented. While part of Stiles wanted to cry harder at the display of affection from his daddy, it automatically calmed him down instead, his body relaxing into Daddy's arms, only wracked with occasional shuddering sobs now instead of full on shaking and trembling with the force of his crying. Once he could breathe normally again, only a few stray tears slipping down his face, Peter asked him again- "What's wrong, pup?" 

"Nothing." Stiles insisted, rubbing his eyes and feeling his face go bright red at the obvious lie. 

He felt Daddy's hands on his face then, tilting Stiles' chin up so they were looking at each other, and Daddy looked and sounded so serious, maybe even sad, when he said, "You know you can talk to me about anything. Daddy will always listen and help you if something's wrong." Stiles couldn't help answering at that point. 

"I want you to be my daddy forever." He mumbled, swaying towards Peter so they were pressed even closer together. 

Daddy looked confused, but he was still quick to reassure Stiles. "Of course I'll be your daddy forever, Stiles. And you'll always be my pup. Were you upset because you thought I wouldn't always be your daddy?" 

"I dunno." Stiles shrugged, then at his daddy's stern look he admitted, "Yeah. 'Cause you have Malia now and she's your real kid so you love her more and you might get sick of me now and you already like spending more time with her so soon you might just not wanna spend any time with me and I'll miss you." He had to take a deep breath after blurting out so much information at once, and Daddy seemed to need a minute too, maybe to gather his thoughts or come up with something to say. 

"Stiles..." He trailed off, apparently still not done thinking of something to say. "You are just as much my real child as Malia is, I don't care if we're not related by blood. You're still mine and you always will be. I could never love Malia or anyone else more than I love you, and I'm sorry if I made you think that by spending so much time with her. I've just been trying to get her settled into our home, but that doesn't mean I don't want to spend time with you too. All three of us could even begin spending more time together, I know you and Malia will get along better once you've gotten to know each other. Then you'll love each other just as much as you love me, maybe even more." The last part was obviously meant to be a joke, Stiles could tell by the smile on Daddy's face, and he hesitantly smiled back. 

"I love you, Daddy." He wrapped his arms tight around Peter, nuzzling him and mumbling the words against his neck. 

"I love you too, pup. Are we all ready for bed now?" 

The question earned an annoyed grumble from Stiles, but then he looked up at his daddy hopefully and asked, "Can I sleep in your bed tonight?" 

Daddy just laughed and nodded, standing up with Stiles in his arms. "Only for tonight, though." 

Giggling, Stiles laid his head on Daddy's shoulder as he was carried down the hall to the master bedroom with Daddy's big queen size bed. Maybe he could keep his family and everything would be okay after all. 

 

Stiles was woken up that night by the sensation of being jostled as someone moved around in Daddy’s bed. He opened his eyes, squinted as he struggled to see in the dark, and met Malia’s glowing yellow eyes as she crawled into bed beside him and Daddy. Wordlessly she leaned over Daddy where he was sleeping between them and pressed her face against Stiles’ neck, nuzzling him and making funny little animalistic noises. Stiles was used to being scented, not by Malia but by his daddy, so he knew to keep still, even tilted his head back a bit and bared his throat to Malia, which seemed to please her. She backed off when she was finished and laid her head on Daddy’s chest, and both of them soon relaxed and fell asleep.

 

Things got better after that. Daddy made sure that Stiles never felt left out from his activities with Malia, and soon Malia and Stiles even started getting along. She tackled him to the ground one day when they were playing in the back yard, but she did it as gently as possible and followed up by yipping playfully and licking Stiles’ face so he wasn’t scared. After that he realized that one of the coyote’s favorite games was wrestling, and he indulged her by play-fighting right back, the two of them rolling around on the ground and giggling while they each tried to get the upper hand on each other. Malia might have been stronger than him, but Stiles was smart, Daddy always told him so, and he would find ways to distract Malia long enough to wiggle out from under her and get her pinned down. Daddy would just laugh and tell them to be careful whenever he found them like that, and one time when he called out, “Stiles, get off of your sister, it’s time to come inside for lunch,” Stiles felt his tummy flutter and a grin stretch across his face. It hadn’t really occurred to him until then- he had a sister now.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter: first part includes violence/murder, not that it's particularly graphic in my opinion but. And then the rest of the chapter has underage sexual activity between Stiles and Malia, as in they're 14 in this chapter, so hella underage. It also refers to them as brother/sister and is essentially incest even if they're not related by blood, so warning for that. Obligatory statement that I don't condone this stuff irl because sexual activity involving children too young to consent and incest and murder are all Unsafe and Unhealthy please do not try this at home. 
> 
> (there's literally no plot here there's just a little bit of murder and then it goes straight to the porn. That's probably all the rest of this fic will be too. Just murder and porn)

Malia growled and slashed her claws over the werewolf’s face, and Stiles watched from a safe distance as the two of them really started to fight, baring their teeth and throwing each other around the empty warehouse they were in. Stiles wasn’t really worried about Malia; at 14 she was strong, fast, a skilled fighter, and had a good amount of experience killing other supernatural creatures. Still, he was glad his daddy was standing right beside him, Peter’s eyes also following the fight his daughter was currently having with a lone omega werewolf. If something did happen to go wrong, if the omega gained the upper hand somehow, Stiles knew Daddy would step in to help Malia.

It didn’t look like the werewolf, who they’d found roaming just outside Beacon Hills, squatting in abandoned barns and warehouses like the one they were currently in, had much of a chance against the smaller werecoyote though. Daddy probably wouldn’t need to step in, Stiles thought proudly, admiring the way his sister dodged all of the werewolf’s attempts to grab or hit her, looking like she was just toying with him at this point. Malia had first joined Stiles and their daddy in killing someone when she was 10, a little less than a year after she’d moved in with them. For awhile after that, they didn’t kill regularly, only going after hunters and creatures who infringed on their territory. Stiles was fine with that, and with all of the rules Daddy had about killing since most of them existed to keep Stiles and Malia safe. Malia, on the other hand, always got mad when she wasn’t allowed to kill a supernatural creature all by herself, or when a few months passed and they hadn’t gone after a new target. For her each kill was practice, a way to prepare for the day she’d kill her birth mother, get the revenge Peter had promised when they’d taken her in. She would need a lot of practice before she was ready to face her mom. 

Their daddy had been trying hard to provide her with that practice, sometimes even taking Stiles and Malia on trips out of town when there was no one suitable in Beacon Hills for them to kill. It had paid off too, evidenced by the way Malia finally got the omega werewolf in a choke hold and tore his throat out with her claws once she was done playing with him. It was messy, blood pouring everywhere as the werewolf choked out his last breath, and Stiles couldn’t keep his eyes off the scene- his sister’s eyes glowing blue, fangs peeking out of her mouth as the man in her arms went limp, his blood all over Malia’s hands and claws and probably various other parts of her, too. As much as Stiles liked to participate too when their daddy found them a new victim, watching Malia or Daddy kill someone was just as satisfying to him. 

Stiles got to dispose of the body when it was all over. He’d spent the past few months researching different chemicals and mixtures that could help in the cleanup after a murder, and he’d found a chemical that could burn someone’s body down to just bones as easily as 1800 degree flames could. He and Malia watched from a few yards away as the acid did its work, Malia’s expression one of wonder and Stiles’ own face alight with glee at how well the chemical was working, sizzling and melting away flesh and muscle like it was nothing. 

Daddy watched too, and when it was done he smiled proudly at Stiles, his comment of, “Good job, sweetheart,” making Stiles flush and squirm happily. He helped Malia clean some of the blood off her body while Stiles disinfected the rest of the scene, and when they left all that remained of the omega werewolf were charred bones.

 

That night when Stiles climbed into his bed, he wasn’t surprised to find Malia already there, wearing one of Daddy’s big t-shirts and grumbling her annoyance when he crawled in beside her, forcing her to move over a bit. She’d just have to deal with it; it was his bed, after all. Both of them had deemed themselves big enough to sleep alone, in their own beds a few years ago, but Malia was still prone to stumbling into whatever bedroom she felt like when she was tired enough and shamelessly cuddling up against either her daddy or her brother in the middle of the night. 

Stiles didn’t mind it at all, even liked it most of the time. It was just especially inconvenient on nights like this, when his teenage hormones had him hard and aching in his boxers for no reason and he couldn’t take care of it with his sister right there. Their family wasn’t big on modesty or privacy, but even Stiles had his limits, and jerking off while Malia was in bed beside him was one of them. Of course, he should have known Malia didn’t have such limits.

 

As he pressed up behind Malia, playing the role of big spoon to her little spoon for once, Stiles closed his eyes and relaxed, knowing his cock would soften eventually as long as he ignored it. But then Malia started moving, wiggling restlessly and, incidentally (or maybe intentionally because she was a jerk like that), grinding back against Stiles. The friction of her round little ass moving against his hard cock, with just his boxers and her soft cotton panties in between them, startled a groan out of Stiles. Daddy’s shirt had ridden up on her too, and when he squinted in the darkness Stiles could make out where it was bunched up at her waist, revealing the tan skin of her lower back, the little dimples above her tailbone and the waistband of her panties just below that. 

“ _Malia._ ” He whined in the same annoyed, indignant tone he always used when she was taunting him or starting to get on his nerves, except this time he also sounded a little breathless and his voice cracked embarrassingly on the last syllable of her name. He rested a hand on the girlish curve of her hip, stilling her. “Stop moving so much.”

Malia huffed, pushing insistently back against Stiles despite his efforts. “Why?” She sounded genuinely curious, even though she had to know he was hard, could feel the small bulge of his cock just as well as she could smell his arousal. And she knew what it meant too, Daddy had given them “the talk” when Stiles started asking questions at the age of twelve and even after that Stiles had explained more to his sister, things he’d learned on the internet and in books. 

“Because I’m hard.” He stated the obvious, sighing to make his irritation known but not bothering to move away from Malia just yet. “It’s not gonna go away if you keep moving like that.” Or it would go away, he thought to himself, but only after he ended up coming in his underwear and leaving behind a mess for him to clean up. 

“Why don’t you just take care of it? Make it go away.” Malia suggested casual as can be, and the thought made Stiles’ cock jerk, leak out watery precome against the front of his boxers.

"I- I can't do that in front of you!" He protested, feeling his face turn red. 

He should have expected Malia’s response, but it still caught him off guard when she asked, “Why not?” Stiles didn’t have an answer to that- there were plenty of reasons _why not_ , but he was sure Malia already knew that and just didn’t care. And if she didn’t care, why should he?

Stiles made a point of grumbling and acting reluctant as he squirmed out of his boxers, tugging them down to his knees while remaining safely covered from the waist down by the blanket they were both under. He didn’t want to seem _too_ eager to jerk off beside his adopted sister. That would just be embarrassing. He wrapped a hand around his cock under the blankets then, stroking up and down the hard length a few times and biting his lip to stifle the noises he wanted to make. Even with his hand dry and fumbling blindly in the dark, it felt good, and the knowledge that Malia was laying right next to him, was probably _listening_ to him right now, made it inexplicably better. 

Stiles had only just gotten started when Malia was turning suddenly, throwing the blankets off of both of them and facing him. It felt like his whole body flushed hot under her gaze, under the feeling of being so exposed, and he gave a startled yelp even as his cock twitched in his grasp. “What are you doing?!”

Shrugging, Malia sat up so she was looking down on him now, and in the faint light that shone into his room from the hallway Stiles could see that her eyes were locked on where he had his hand wrapped around his hard, leaking cock. “I want to watch.” She explained, and her words made him groan, hips jerking forward to fuck his dick through the tunnel of his hand. 

He continued that way for a few minutes, blush spreading from his face down to his chest as he rubbed his cock and avoided Malia’s gaze, only daring to look at her from the corners of his eyes because jerking off next to her was simultaneously the most embarrassing and most arousing thing he’d ever done. Stiles bit his lip as his eyes wandered up from his sister’s exposed legs, to her stomach and the barely noticeable swell of her recently developed breasts under their daddy’s shirt, and then he faltered when he looked at her face, at her soft lips and her sharp gaze aimed so intently back at him. No, he couldn’t look directly at her, he’d come right away then, thinking of how it would feel to crawl between those long legs, how they’d feel wrapped around his waist and how her _mouth_ would feel against his own, Malia making the prettiest noises while he rutted against her, her eyes wide and focused on him just as intense as they were now-

“Can I touch it?” Her voice shook Stiles out of his fantasy, and all Stiles could do was whine and nod energetically, all thoughts of caution or discretion or appropriateness thrown to the wind because he needed her to touch him now. Needed whatever she was willing to give him.

Her hands, strong and capable as they were, looked small moving towards him, delicate even. She brushed the tips of her fingers over the sensitive head of Stiles’ cock, making him cry out and arch his back, and Malia just watched curiously and did it _again_ until Stiles writhed and gasped out, “ _Ah_ \- Malia, please.”

She looked up from where her eyes were zeroed in on his stiff cock. “What do you want me to do?” And Stiles wasn’t quite as bold as her, he didn’t want to say it out loud, explicitly, but-

“Touch it. The same way I did. Like…” He took one of her hands in his own, fumbled with it until both of their hands were circled around his cock, her touch shocking and new and searingly hot. “Like that.” Stiles choked out the words, couldn’t stop himself from thrusting up into her grasp even if he’d wanted to, and then she started to actually move and he discovered her touch, inexpert as it was, managed to feel ten times better than his own hand ever had. 

It felt so good, in fact, that Malia soon had him coming, a startlingly low groan drawn out of Stiles when her fingers tightened around the tip of his dick, her wrist twisting on each upstroke and rubbing so perfectly at the wet, flushed head of his cock. She didn’t stop when his orgasm hit either, and he shuddered and squirmed through it, eyes shut tight against the all too attractive sight of his watery come shooting onto his own stomach and his sister’s hand. It was only when he was finished coming that Malia let him go, and Stiles opened his eyes to stare up at her with an awed expression.

“That was...did you- thanks.” He sputtered, not used to being at a loss for words but unsure how to proceed now. 

“You’re welcome.” Malia was usually better at taking the lead, taking charge of a situation than he was anyways. As always she knew exactly what to say, or was at least brave enough to proceed without overthinking things. “That was cool. I’m gonna touch myself too now, okay? You can help if you want.” With that she lifted her shirt just enough to delve her hand into her panties, lips pursing in concentration as she did something Stiles couldn’t see but that made her grind forward into her own hand and huff out a pleased breath. Stiles didn’t think he’d ever gotten hard again after already coming so fast in his life.


End file.
